


Four Years Later

by saintrae



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Barricade Boys - Freeform, Character Death, F/F, F/M, France (Country), Friendship/Love, Growing Up, June Rebellion, Love, Minor Character Death, Parents & Children, Politics, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:53:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintrae/pseuds/saintrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte "Owl" Enjolras is one of the few survivors of the June Rebellion and she retells the story from her point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Four Years Later

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a mix of The Brick(original Les Miserables book) and the Les Miserables movie. I quote some of the songs in this missive and all the rights to the songs go to whoever wrote them, I do not own it.  
> Also, this is told from Enjolras' sister's POV, so there will be some things not mentioned because she doesn't know them.  
> There is some French text in here, and some swearing.

I hadn’t always been this way. And perhaps if I had a different group of friends to be around, I wouldn’t be here now. But that’s not something I would like to think about. Would I do all the same things and still end up here or would I try to dissuade him and we would all live, even unhappily? I didn’t know which I would chose, because either way no one really won. I have finally come to terms with that there was really nothing I could do by way of their deaths and mine spared.  
My young daughter was nestled in my arms as my husband was out making money. His shift would be over soon. I wished I could work with him - or do what I had always done. But we had a daughter and she could not go hungry. We were both from rich families but his family had disowned him after our marriage and I didn’t want to live off my family’s money. My brother would turn in his grave if he knew I had not accepted my dowry. He had always wanted the best for me.  
My husband, Jean Prouvaire, came home and started to prepare dinner. He liked to keep us equal in the household because he knew I deserved the same amount of respect he had. We had fought in the same battle. Once we had eaten, I took our daughter Éloise to her cot and lay her down.  
“Mama,” she said, her yellow eyes, much like mine, were wide and alert.  
“Yes, ma cherie?” I asked her and smoothed her light hair.  
“Tell me of the barricade again. How you and papa fought,” she said and sat up, taking one of my hands in both of hers.  
“Mon amour, you’ve heard it many times over,” I said to her. Reliving those events hurt me deeply, but they gave her happiness to know her parents were unlike the others around her.  
“Je sais, mama. So one more time couldn’t hurt,” she said, hope in her wide eyes. Yes, one more time could hurt. Each time was a slow death - something my friends had thankfully been spared.  
“Alright,” I sighed and Jehan walked into the room. He looked at me, his warm eyes giving me comfort as they always had been able to do.  
“Why do you wish to torment your mother? She has learned patience, not tolerance for this variety of torture,” he said and placed a hand on my shoulder. Éloise laughed, as if my pain were funny to her.  
“Please, papa?” she begged and I looked up at mon soleil. He gave me one small nod and I returned it.  
“Alright… it all started with…” And from then on I told my story, a story that has left my lips more times than I care to count. Maybe one day, I’ll tell her all of the horrible things that actually happened. And maybe then, they wouldn’t bring her such joy.


	2. The Beginning

I woke up in my clothes from the day before, feeling rumpled. I didn’t normally sleep in my trousers and chamise, but yesterday I had gotten in so late at night and I was so tired, I decided against changing before falling into bed.  
I went to the bathroom and found a bucket with water in it and a note that said: Musain at dusk. Remind Grantaire. I left you a dress. Put it on. Je t’aime, mon soeur. - AE  
My brother, as always, was right to the point. Remind Grantaire was crossed out once, as if he no longer wanted the drunk boxer to attend. I knew exactly what was going to transpire tonight. Alexandre Enjolras was going to tell his friends of his engagement. Funny thing was, no one knew he had been courting anybody. Only I had, but that was because I was his sister and he loved me dearly.  
After I washed my face and the rest of my body, I went to the wardrobe in the corner that was half-filled with my clothes and half-filled with his. My side had many gaps, though, because I only owned three chamises, two trousers, one pair of boots, one long coat, one long strip of cloth I used as a belt, and a hat. He was slightly more extravagant than I was.  
At the floor of the wardrobe was a box with a bow on it. I lifted the lid to reveal a blue dress. It had puffed sleeves, a square neckline, and a corset. The dress was light blue with dark blue detail. The delicate slippers underneath the dress were dark blue and the ribbon was dark blue. It was all very pretty and very expensive. Alexandre only got me the best, I knew. But that didn’t mean I was going to wear this. I downright refused.  
I stuffed it all back in the box and threw on my long coat, going to return it to the store. In the hallway stood Jean Prouvaire and he looked up when I walked out.  
“Oh, Owl! Hello! Enjolras told me to escort you to the party tonight. But you don’t look dressed,” he said, his brow furrowing in confusion. I set my jaw and lifted my chin defiantly.  
“I refuse to wear this - this… monstrosity! I am not a ‘proper young lady’ and I will dress accordingly!” I said to him, taking my frustration out on him.  
“Well, you’re going to put it on. I’m in no position to force you, though. But, you know… Ophelia really was looking forward to seeing you in it. You don’t want to make this all about you, do you?” he asked and looked down at me. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips and I squinted up at him. I loved Ophelia like a sister and I did want to make this special for her…  
“Oh… ugh, fine!” I snapped and stomped back inside the apartment. I put on the dress myself and curled my short hair and tied the ribbon in my hair. It was big and floppy and I couldn’t get it to look right. I put makeup on begrudgingly and walked out. Jehan saw me and averted his gaze, blushing like mad. Because he blushed at everything, this was not something I took note of.  
“Okay, let’s get something to eat. I’m famished,” I said to him. He gave a shy smile and the only reason I knew it was for me was because we were the only people in the hallway.  
“You know, you look… nice… like, um, a woman of high status,” he said and gave me his arm. I placed my hand on the bend of his arm and he walked out with me.  
“I try not to broadcast my status, Jehan,” I said and rolled my eyes. He let out a small laugh.  
“That is obvious, Owlette,” he smiled softly. I caught him staring at my lips and I snapped my fingers in front of his face.  
“Hey, none of that,” I said to him, my voice harsh. His blush got worse and I let out a laugh and the redness ran right up to his ears.  
“I’m sorry,” he said and walked out with me. We ended up buying a loaf of bread at a bakery and eating while we walked around Paris. Once the bread was done, we sat at the Luxembourg Garden and watched the birds. I didn’t like being out in the open, I was usually hiding and watching people. But Jean made it better, slightly. I wasn’t as uncomfortable around him.  
“So, do you know why Enjolras suddenly had the notion to have a party? He never had any interest in parties before,” Jean Prouvaire asked and lowered his head, a few strands of his long hair falling into his face. Most of his hair had flowers woven into it but some of it fell free. He didn’t seem to notice his strawberry-blonde hair at all, really. Jehan seemed to find the ground interesting.  
“He is Enjolras. I’m glad, though, something can take his mind off the revolution. I love my brother, but… I know this will be the end of him. This party… it’s about the third thing that matters to him in this world. I’m glad he has something that matters to him aside from the revolution and myself,” I said, mostly to myself.  
“His friends are third?”  
“Okay, no. You guys are in another category. He cares for all of you, but in a separate part of his heart. He would do anything for his friends, if he thought it moral,” I said and looked at him. Jean did not meet my gaze. I gave up on trying and I stood up.  
“Well, since I obviously cannot do anything productive in this dress, let’s retrieve Grantaire and head for the party. Because I woke up late, the party should be in a few hours. That should be as long as it takes to get R out of bed and dressed. I don’t think Enjolras wants R to come, but which would be more cruel? Taking R to the party and see Enjolras happy without him or not inviting him and leaving R to wallow in his misery?” I asked, thinking out loud.  
“I do not know what you speak of, mademoiselle. You seem to not be speaking to me,” Jehan laughed.  
“No, I am not speaking to you. I apologize. Let’s go to Grantaire,” I said to Prouvaire and smoothed the front of my dress.  
“You look… um, you look…” he said, groping for a word. Strange, he was always good with his words.  
“Enough with the flattery. Let’s just go,” I said and started walking. Prouvaire got to his feet and hurried to walk beside me.  
We made it to Grantaire’s building and went up the unstable stairs to his door. I knocked a few times, trying to get him to answer. He was probably already drunk. After waiting for a little bit longer, I kicked the door open. It wasn’t that hard because the door was thin. I walked to his cot and pulled the blankets off him. He made a deep growling sound in his throat and his already-ugly face contorted into a displeased expression.  
“Whoever the fuck it is, leave me alone to my intoxication,” he groaned. I stayed silent and brushed a tawny curl off my cheek. I squatted in front of his face and looked around for some type of liquid to splash on his face.  
“If I have to attend this party, so do you,” I said and found some wine and poured it on him.  
“Owl, have you no mercy?” he asked as he rubbed the wine out of his eyes.  
“None for you. I save it for those who need it,” I replied and gave him a half-smile. I looked around the soiled room and thought, no wonder your sister doesn’t live with you. I had never met the girl, but I knew she had sense because of this.  
“I have to attend, don’t I?” he asked in such a broken voice, I almost pitied him. Almost.  
“Yes. As do I and Jean Prouvaire,” I said to him and brought him to his unsteady feet. “You must wash and get dressed.”  
Grantaire looked down at me fondly, the way a father might look at his daughter, then went to do as I said. Jehan smiled at me in a coy fashion and averted his gaze once more.  
I knew he loved my brother, far beyond the love of brothers. If no one else noticed, I had. He thought of me as a daughter because he hoped that if he became Alexandre’s lover, I would be like a daughter for them both. But that was far beyond happening. It was a silly dream that would never come true.  
Alexandre was marrying Ophelia, I knew. And she was leaving her apartment for me so they could move in to Alexandre’s. I did not mind this arrangement because I had no business living with them. Alexandre had protested at first, saying that a proper young lady should not live alone, but with her family. That led to the argument that we had both lived apart from our family for seven years and I had no plans to return. I also knew how to take care of myself, so I did not need my brother’s protection. He had said, “but what if I’m not around? What if by some odd chance, I die? You’ll be alone!” and I had burst into tears. I didn’t want my brother to die. Even though I would live apart from him, I could not live without him.  
I shook off the memory just in time for Grantaire to come out of his small washroom. He looked as clean and well-dressed as he ever did and I thought that was good enough. Truthfully, I was not one to judge considering I was wealthy but chose to dress like a pauper. Neither was Jehan, for that matter. He was wealthy but he paid as much attention to his clothing as he did to passing events. It clearly showed.  
We walked out, arm in arm. A pretty boy with blonde hair and flowers woven into it, a girl with short curled hair, and an ugly man with wild black hair. What a group we made!  
No, I did not dislike Grantaire. I actually liked him some days, other days I tolerated him. We drank together and I listened to him when he would rant in his drunken slur.  
I had odd relationships with the L’Amis de L’ABC. Bahorel would teach me how to fight and he would love to play around with me, Courfeyrac was my first with anything that had to do with anything intimate. I had no regrets with him, only that I wish he had kept our indiscretion to himself. Alexandre had fun beating him that day and he had given me the best lecture he could muster in his blind rage. Courfeyrac and I remained friends, but we were always under the watchful eye of my brother.  
Bossuet would help me out with the work my brother would give me and Joly would tell me stories of himself and his lady friend he shared with Bossuet. Feuilly had always taught me to be hardworking and thankful for everything I had in life. Combeferre loved to teach me new things and helped my brother educate me. I had as good an education as any of the men I surrounded myself with, thanks to ‘Ferre and Alexandre.  
I was close to all of them, they were my family, but Alexandre was my blood.  
I had been twelve when my older brother had started the L’ABC and he had been twenty-two. He said he had done it because after living with the impoverished for so long, he couldn’t stand to see the suffering anymore. Also, because of the incident.  
At the small girl’s school where I attended, I had no friends. It was for rich noblesse girls and I dressed like I was part of the bourgeoisie. On the way home, when my brother had been at a meeting, this group of noblesse boys pushed me to the ground and kicked me and said I was no better than a prostitute, that I was the scum of the street. After they were done ripping my cheap dress - which was when I decided I should’ve been wearing pants so I could hunt them down with ease - I ran to the cafe Musain. My brother, after a moment of shock at my tears and tatters, he embraced me. He said nothing to his group, just held me to his chest and let me cry. After I was done, he introduced me to the boys. Taking a break from talking, Bossuet asked me why I was in tears when I had ran in. I explained my story and Bahorel stepped up and taught me how to fight with Grantaire. I think that is why Alexandre hasn’t kicked R out of L’ABC yet. Because of that day, years ago.  
As the three of us walked into the Musain, the waitress took us to our back room. Everyone was there already talking and playing around. I stood in the corner, watching them. I had disengaged myself from Jehan and R so I could be by myself. Alexandre saw me, though, even though I tried my best not to be seen. He gave a small smile to me and nodded to Ophelia. She walked over and stood next to my brother.  
“Listen, everyone!” Enjolras said, loud enough to be heard over them. Everyone became silent almost immediately. “We have some news.”  
“Who’s the woman, Apollo?” Courf asked and I giggled a little behind my slender hand.  
“This is Ophelia, my fiancee,” he replied. I looked around for Grantaire. I found him in a corner, the bottom of the bottle tilted toward the ceiling, his eyes closed. His muscles were tense and the muscles in his throat twitched, as if he were trying to hold something back. Once the bottle was empty, he looked at my brother. R’s eyes were damp and his jaw was clenched. He walked through the door, no doubt going to get more and not coming back. I felt bad for him, but he had to come to terms with it eventually.  
The rest of the night passed by normally. Courfeyrac danced with me to annoy my brother, Jehan is the one who got the most annoyed by it. Ophelia and I danced together. I didn’t even notice the corset crushing my ribs, suffocating me, until I quickly lost my breath.  
After the celebration, Alexandre and Ophelia decided to go. I went to Ophelia’s apartment and let them go to my brother’s. This was one of the last times I saw my brother carefree and happy.


	3. Four Years Later

The next morning, I got washed and dressed to meet with Celine, Alerie, and Ophelia. I tried to spend as much time with them as I could, but I knew that couldn’t bring them back. All we could do now was spend time with each other to fill the hole we were each left with. I loved to be around them, though, even if I was in the background. We were all painful reminders to each other, but we were the only ones that could help each other by the same token.   
Alerie hadn’t lost Combeferre, but he had lost himself. Jehan had changed because of what happened, but not as much as Combeferre. The only two people he could speak to were Alerie and I. He was so lost in his own mind, I feared he was driving himself mad.   
On top of having to help ‘Ferre with his sorrow, she had to help herself over the loss of a brother. Courfeyrac had been lost as well and I wasn’t sure Alerie was completely over it. I knew I wasn’t over my brother’s death.   
After kissing my daughter and Jehan goodbye, and headed to the garden. I dressed as I had when I was younger, a chamise, brown trousers, boots, a long coat, and a brown hat. The only delicate and feminine thing I wore was the necklace my brother had given me for my twelfth birthday, right after I went to live with him. It was a simple gold chain and a small lapis lazuli pendant carved into a heart. I never took it off then and I still couldn’t. It was a part of me just as my arm was.   
I still kept my hair short, to the middle of my neck. It was wavy and it only curled like Alexandre’s when it was wet.   
“Charlotte!” Celine Pontmercy called out, snapping my attention back to reality. The girl was in her late teens and she was radiant. Dark brown hair and blue eyes like the sea, just like her brother. Only, Celine did not have her idiot brother’s disposition. Once I had decided to become Alerie and Celine’s friend, did I tell them my real name. It wasn’t until after the deaths of my family did I realize, no one aside from Ophelia and Alexandre knew my real name. Because of my tawny hair, cream skin, and yellow eyes I was nicknamed “Owl” or “Owlette” by those who knew me. No one apart from Ophelia and I knew my brother’s first name either.   
“Oh, hello there, Petite Crevette. How have you been?” I asked her, even though I knew her answer.   
“Oh, the same. Marius has tried to marry me off but I refuse. I know he means well, but being with anyone apart from Courfeyrac seems wrong. How have you been, Lottie? Your daughter Éloise doing alright? Jean?” she asked and gave me a sad smile. I pitied her, even though I knew she didn’t want it. My brother treated her like his daughter - which made me resent her at first - so I knew she was hurting just as I was. Only, I had kept my love and she had lost hers.   
“She is doing fine. Jehan… he’s changed. Not as happy, but… he’s fine. We… help each other. Do you still have -” I said but she cut me off, her sweet voice suddenly harsh.   
“The nightmares? Of course I do. We all have them,” she said, glaring at me. Ophelia and Alerie walked up and hugged us both.   
“How are you dears doing?” Ophelia asked, standing by me. After the death of my brother and her fiancee, we had gravitated toward each other.   
“I’m doing quite well,” I responded and Celine just looked at me.   
“You would be doing well. You have a husband and a family, whereas ours are either broken or dead,” she muttered. The youngest of us all was the most broken, even though she had lost less. Instead of having kids, Marius and Cosette had adopted Celine as their daughter.   
“Be grateful for what you have, Celine. You have a family. Maybe not the one you dreamed of, but you have one. And be grateful you’re alive today,” Ophelia said to her, her eyes downcast. Celine said nothing.   
“Let’s get going on our walk, shall we?” Alerie said and smiled at me. We were the only two with husbands and children and it seemed the only one who envied us was Celine. She was not a spiteful child, I knew. She just wished she had kept her love, as we had kept ours. God gives us what we can handle, and I know she would not have been able to deal with Courfeyrac in his depths of despair.   
“Tell us about little Beaumont. How is he fairing?” I asked Alerie and her smile widened.   
“He’s doing well! He learned to speak and he’s currently learning how to write. ‘Ferre is a wonderful teacher,” she said with such delight, I couldn’t do anything but feel happy for her.   
“That’s lovely. I was thinking of taking up a little girl but there is no work for women with children,” Ophelia said and I looked at her. Celine set her jaw but said nothing. Cosette’s mother had been in that position, but we never spoke about her untimely death.   
“I cannot work anyway. We don’t have the money for a nanny for our daughter,” I said to them and Celine looked at me.   
“Cosette and my brother can take care of her while you work,” she said to me and gave me a smile. It was more apologetic than anything. I returned the smile thankfully.   
“That would be wonderful,” I said to her.   
“I’ve met the darling before. She’s so precious. But I don’t think Marius should be around her,” Ophelia said to me. I knew why, but I still asked.   
“Because she talks so much about the barricade and how we were all heros. You might have gotten used to it, but Marius hasn’t,” Alerie answered for Ophelia. I knew he hadn’t but he was one man I did not pity on that lonely barricade. He had only fought with us for half the battle, and only then because he thought suicide was a grand idea. Just because he thought Cosette had left him. I always told her, she needed a stronger man. She always waved me off, but I regretted the day Bossuet brought Marius and Celine into the Musain.


	4. The Pontmercys

A month after that engagement party, we met Marius and Celine Pontmercy. The bastard was a Bonapartist Democrat and was spouting this in a room full of Republicans. From my place in the corner of the room, I watched them and wondered, does this ninny want to die?   
After my brother set him straight, they got into a heated discussion. There was a tiny girl behind him and I don’t think anyone noticed. I knew how it felt to be intimidated by all the men here when I was her age, so I pushed myself off the wall and walked over to her. Alerie and Ophelia were out with Jehan and Courfeyrac getting flowers to surprise-attack Alexandre and litter his curly blonde hair with them, so I was the only other female in the room. And the only one near her age, at that.   
I was not one to emanate warmth, so I made a pass behind Marius and grabbed the girl’s wrist. I pulled her with me, out from behind her brother, and stood next to mine. Alexandre finally noticed the tiny girl and I and both boys stopped speaking. Marius looked at the young girl and sighed whereas my brother knelt down to her level.   
“Hello. My name is Enjolras. I’m this one’s,” he nodded to me, “older brother. What are you called?”   
“I’m called Celine Pontmercy,” she said meekly and Enjolras offered her a small smile.   
“You know, I think I have a job for you. Often, these boys come here after their jobs or their schooling. They often don’t have time to eat. I could give you money so you could run to get us some food,” he said and Celine smiled widely.   
“Of course, Monsieur Enjolras,” she said and he dropped ten francs into her hand. She was about to run out when she paused in the doorway.   
“Is anyone gonna retrieve the food with me?” she asked. Grantaire and I stepped forward and walked to her. Alexandre kissed the side of my head goodbye and we headed out. Grantaire had not been his usual self since the announcement. He was always drunk and drinking, but never going on his drunken rants nor drawing attention to himself. Alexandre would sometimes draw attention to him, telling him to put the bottle down and try to help with the pamphlets. ‘Taire pretended to actually be doing something until my brother snapped at him and Grantaire stormed out. Bossuet took up the job happily, trying to lighten the mood by telling stories.   
As we left the Musain, Ophelia, Alerie, Jehan, and Courf walked up to us. Alerie was sticking flowers into Jean Prouvaire’s hair and I felt a sick feeling in my stomach. I wanted to be the one playing with his light strawberry hair. Once the thought entered my mind, I put it out again. I had no time for such things, I was busy doing more productive things.   
“Oh, Owl! Were you three kicked out?” Ophelia asked jokingly. I noted that a woman was more beautiful when she laughed or smiled because that’s what happened to Ophelia. I envied her blunt beauty and her ability to catch the eye of any man she walked past. I was nothing more than a mignon fille. Putting that thought out of my mind was easier than the one before it.   
“Oh, no. We’ve gone to retrieve food for our boys,” I said to her. She glanced at Celine momentarily before looking at me once again.   
“You are? Perhaps I could go as well,” Jehan’s interest was peaked with my previous statement, apparently. He could be off doing something helpful to the revolution instead of helping us bring food.   
“No, it’s alright. We have all the services we need. Thank you for your offer, though,” I said to him but his face fell anyway. He nodded and gave me a shy smile, seeming not to notice Grantaire, Celine, Ophelia, nor Alerie. Only I held his interest.   
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low. It seemed his words had another meaning to them but I didn’t know what it was.   
“I’m sure,” I responded and the light died in his eyes. I had never seen this face on him before and I had caused it. It was such an unhappy expression, I had to look away even though I had already seen it. That look would haunt me, I knew.   
Grantaire, Celine, and I walked away. Celine walked ahead of us and Grantaire walked beside me.   
“Don’t do that again,” he said to me, his voice hard. I looked up at him, startled.   
“Do what, ‘Taire?” I asked him, honestly confused.   
“I know that look. I’ve done that look. You really hurt him, Owl,” he replied.   
“Rubbish. I never said anything to hurt him nor did I strike him. He’s fine,” I shrugged and ‘Taire grabbed my wrist roughly but did not draw attention to it.   
“‘Rubbish’ my ass, Owl. He’s a good man. He just wanted to help the woman he loved with something. And you denied him of the pleasure of helping you. He just wants to be around you. You could tell him to do anything and as long as it would make you happy, he’d do it. For someone so observant, you somehow missed that Jehan loves you. You’re just like your brother,” he said, his voice low. His green eyes bore into mine and I knew my face was red. I didn’t know how to react to the word ‘love’. The only person who’s ever told me they loved me was Alexandre. I knew Grantaire was speaking from experience.  
“What should I do, then?” I asked him.  
“Tell him the truth. If you love him or not. Don’t let him keep thinking one thing or another. Just be straight with him,” he responded. We waited outside the bakery as Celine got sweets and bread.   
“I don’t know if I do or not. And I don’t have time for such things, Grantaire,” I said to him and set my jaw. He glared at me.   
“Out of everyone, I think you and him will survive. He deserves to know how you feel. This is just as important as the revolution, Owl. Just because one of them has to do with the government and the other with you personally doesn’t make one more important than the other. Damn it, you sound just like your brother,” he said and kicked the ground. I watched him for a moment and sighed. I would ask my brother on the matter later tonight.   
“Okay, Grantaire,” I said softly and sighed.   
“At least one of us gets to be happy,” he said.   
“Joly and Bossuet are happy with ‘Chetta,” I said to him and smiled a little.   
“But when are Joly and Bossuet not happy?”  
“When Joly is sick.”  
“Oh shit, yeah. That’s not fun for anyone.”  
Celine walked out, her arms full of breads and pastries. I helped carry some of it and ‘Taire took the rest from her. Her face reddened.   
“Oh, thank you, Monsieur Grantaire,” she said breathlessly.  
“Just Grantaire, s’il vous plait,” he said to her and gave her a smile. Her blush worsened. This would be a problem.   
“Of course…” she said, her voice small. Grantaire flashed her a smile and I knew exactly how he got women into his bed. It wasn’t his looks, certainly. It was his charm, something he was unknowingly using on her.   
When we got back to the Musain, we put the food on the table. The boys attacked it, everyone but Jehan. He just sat at his chair, melting silver. His face was as serious as I’d ever seen it. I walked over to him and stood behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He paused for a moment before continuing what he was doing.   
“What is it you want, Owl?” he asked, his normally sweet and light voice was now harsh. A man’s voice, not a boy’s.   
“I require your services,” I bit my lower lip and he looked up momentarily.   
“Do not bite your lip, Owlette. It is something angry women do. What is it you would like me to do?” he said it as if he thought he was going to regret it.   
“Come with me to return the dress. You know the one, the one I wore for the party last month? Yes, that one. I know I will never wear it again, being that I do not like dresses. I would like you to come with me. A lady shouldn’t have to walk alone, would she?” I asked, hoping he would come. Maybe Grantaire was right, maybe I should get in touch with my feelings. Maybe it would do me good.   
“Why me? Why not your brother or Courfeyrac?” he asked, a bitter note in his voice as he said Courf’s name.   
“I do not want Courfeyrac to come, I want you to come,” I sighed and took my hand off his shoulder. He stopped what he was doing and faced me with a smile, taking the hand that had just been on his shoulder between both of his.   
“I would love to accompany you, Mademoiselle Owl,” he smiled, the light back in his eyes.   
“Lovely. Let’s leave now,” I gave him a smile and his expression completely transformed. He went from being hesitantly happy to ecstatic in a few seconds. Grantaire was right, he did love me. Problem was, did I love him back?   
I walked over to my brother, Jean trailing behind me, and stood in front of him. He had flowers making a crown on the top of his head and it made him look more angelic. He was the pretty one, not I.  
“We’re going to return the dress. Would you like me to bring home food for dinner?” I asked him and Alexandre gave me a warm smile.   
“Of course, thank you. Take your time. You both have been doing well,” he said and lowered his lips to my ear. “Tomorrow, I have a job for you. I need you to rally up some people and bring them here. Then spy on the National Guard. How many men do they have at their disposal?” I gave one curt nod and walked out with Prouvaire.   
“What did he ask of you?” Prouvaire inquired and I resisted the urge to bite my lip again.   
“Just rally more people. The usual,” I shrugged, deciding that not telling him was a better idea. My brother knew that if I was caught, I would be killed for being a revolutionary spy. Then again, he knew I was good enough at what I did to not get caught. I’ve been doing this for years, as our little secret.   
We walked to Alexandre’s and my apartment and I picked up the fancy box with the dress and walked out. We walked down the street to the store my brother said he got it from and returned it. I got fifty francs for it.   
As we walked out, I bumped into a girl. She had dirty tanned skin, brown hair, and brown eyes. She would’ve been so pretty if she hadn’t been emaciated, dirty, and in worn clothes. A few of her teeth were missing but I only noticed because she was muttering to herself when I bumped into her.   
She fell, perhaps because I was more sturdy than I looked or because she was weaker than she looked. Jean and I helped her to her feet and I handed her the letters she had dropped.   
“Oh, dear! Thank you, thank you,” she said and met my gaze. For some strange reason, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to protect her. “Sorry, I was in your way. I’m very sorry.”   
“It’s fine, really. What’s your name?” I asked, actually curious.   
“It’s… it’s Eponine. Eponine Thenardier,” she said and looked down. I smiled a little, forgetting Jehan was with me.   
“My name is - is -” I wondered if I should say my real name or not. The fact that no one knew it was what kept me safe. But telling this girl, even within hearing range of Jean, couldn’t hurt. “My name is Charlotte Enjolras. But everyone I know calls me Owl.”   
“Oh, Owl! What a curious name! But I will call you it,” she smiled, her lips closed as if she were ashamed of her missing teeth. “Do you have any change to spare? A few sous perhaps? I have not eaten in three days and I’m quite famished.”   
I fished out twenty francs and handed them over to her. Jehan grasped my wrist firmly, as if it was a warning. Eponine swooned and took the money.   
“Thank you, thank you! We can eat for a week with this! Thank you for your generosity, Owl!” she said excitedly and hugged me tightly. I felt happy that I had made her happy, that she would eat tonight because of me, and I hugged her back. When she let go, I stepped beside Jean, feeling bad that I had forgotten about him.  
“Eponine, this is Jehan. He’s my friend,” I said and nodded my head to Jean. He looked like he had before, his face pale and his eyes dead. I knew this was my doing.   
“Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Jehan! Thank you again, Owl, for your generosity,” she said and ran off. I hoped I would see her again.   
“What was that about?” he asked me as we walked to the Luxembourg Garden.   
“What do you mean?”  
“Giving that strange girl that much money?”   
“She looked hungry and sickly. We’re fighting for them, aren’t we?”   
“Yes, but she’s a con-artist.”   
“Why do you think that?” I didn’t like the way he spoke of that girl.   
“She didn’t have to mention the fact that she hadn’t eaten in some time. She didn’t have to fake swoon. And she asked for your money to begin with even though in those clothes, you look the same class she is in. And did you see her letters? All for different people. I think she’s giving fake letters so she can get a sou for delivering it. I wouldn’t trust her… is your name really Charlotte?”   
“Look, she was in need of help and I offered her money. That’s the end of it. Yes, my name is Charlotte. Alexandre calls me Lottie so you have to find something else to call me,” I said and looked at him. He sighed and shook his head.   
“Oh, Charlotte… my Charlotte… why do you do this to me?” he sighed and lay his face in his hand. His voice sounded as broken as Grantaire’s had been lately. Jehan called me ‘his Charlotte’.  
“Do what?” I knew exactly what, I just wanted to hear him say it.   
“You take interest in others instead of me. How do you think it made me feel to know you and Courfeyrac…? And that I didn’t have a right to punch him as Enjolras did. How I can be so physically close to you but you seem so far. You let others into your heart but have never given me a chance. Living without your love is a torture that I would rather not grow accustomed to. I would like to know what it feels like for you to love me, as I love you. Why do you torment me this way?” he asked, tears welling up in his eyes.   
“I need a moment to sort my feelings out… je suis desole, Jehan,” I said to him. He removed his hand from his face and tears fell from his eyes. My heart squeezed painfully as I watched him walk away from me.


	5. A Heart Full of Love... or Not

A few weeks later, I was meeting up with Eponine again. We had become fast friends and she hadn’t asked for more of my money. I gave her one of my chamise and trousers because her chamise and skirt were unfit to be worn anymore. I brought her into the Musain once, but she spent too much time around Marius, so I didn’t go there with her again.   
She told me she had a little brother, Gavroche, who would probably join the revolution. My brother was happy to hear that. Jehan hadn’t spoken to me since that day. He left the meetings as soon as I walked in, so I stopped going as often.   
I hated this. I hated how things were with everyone. Alexandre didn’t want to speak to me about what was going on with Jean and why Grantaire was upset with me or why I spent so much time with Eponine. He was simply Alexandre, worrying about the revolution and his wedding.  
Just last night, I had been walking around late. When I got home, Eponine was sitting on the steps of the building with a bruise on the side of her face. I took her inside, gave her some clothes, and helped her wash up. Alexandre was staying with Ophelia so Eponine slept in my brother’s bed. The next morning, she was gone. I didn’t know where she went, she left no note. She was just gone.   
I was spending time with Joly and Bossuet now, but we stayed away from the touchy subject of Jean Prouvaire. Bossuet was telling the story of how he met Marius Pontmercy. I was sick of hearing that bastard’s name. Eponine never shut up about him and it was driving me crazy. Still, I said nothing as Bossuet continued with his story. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grantaire perk up and he stood up from his drunken slouch against the wall. He walked over and grabbed my bicep.   
“May I have her for just a moment?” he inquired before pulling me away without an answer.   
“Grantaire, stop. What is it?” I asked him. I hated it that recently people kept pulling me away to speak as if I were a doll.   
“Jean Prouvaire. Heard of him? That boy’s a fighter and he loves you. What the fuck are you doing? Hanging around that diseased con-woman -” he was starting to get angry and he got me angry by saying that about Eponine.   
“You don’t know her. Her life is terrible. She needs me,” I snapped, looking up at him. He set his jaw.   
“No, what she needs is to get away from her family. What she needs is a doctor. I saw her around you. She’s sick and she’s bruised. I assume you don’t hit her, so I can only think it’s from her family. She doesn’t need you, she needs a family. What is this sudden interest with this girl?” he looked at me. I didn’t respond for a little bit.  
“She needs me. And I - I like her. She’s different,” I said softly and Grantaire sighed and hugged me tightly.   
“She’s gonna break your heart, Owlette. That I’m sure of,” he whispered into my hair but I decided not to respond to that. My brother walked up and placed a hand on my shoulder. Grantaire let me go and I turned to my brother.   
“The time is near, so near. It’s stirring the blood in their veins. And yet beware, don’t let the wine go to your brains!” Alexandre said and shot a look at Grantaire. ‘Taire’s jaw worked and he took another swig from his bottle. “We need a sign, to rally the people. To call them to arms. To bring them in line!”  
Marius walked in and took a seat at the table. Celine stood beside me and I led her to the corner of the room. Marius looked dazed.  
“Marius, wake up. What’s wrong today?” Joly asked him, looking like he feared Marius was sick. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”  
“Some wine and say what’s going on?” Grantaire poured some wine in a cup and put it in front of Marius.  
“A ghost you say, a ghost may be. She was just like a ghost to me. One minute there, then she was gone!” He said, sounding rather pathetic.   
“I am agog, I am aghast! Is Marius in love at last? I’ve never heard him ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’,” Grantaire grinned and took a seat beside Marius.   
“What’s her name, dear brother?” Celine asked Marius.   
“I will not say,” he responded defiantly. I doubted he knew her name at all.   
“I doubt he knows her name,” I remarked and Marius shot me a look of annoyance that meant nothing to me.   
“Of course I do! Her name’s Ursula - oh, damn it!” Marius shot me another look, this one of hatred. R looked at my brother, raising his bottle to indicate him. “You talk of battles to be won, and here he comes like Don Juan. It is better than an opera!”  
My brother walked over and placed his hands on the table, clearly annoyed. We were supposed to be doing something helpful to the revolution, not talking about this meathead’s love-life.   
“It’s time for us all to decide who we are. Do we fight for a right to a night at the opera now?” He glared at Grantaire. My friend’s gaze suddenly found his bottle very interesting. “Have you asked yourself what’s the price you might pay? Is this simply a game for a rich young boy to play?” My brother gave Marius a withering look and I tried - and failed - not to smile.   
“The colors of the world are changing, day by day…” my brother continued and gave a half-smile. “Red!”   
Everyone in the room backed him up, or were they mocking him too? “The blood of angry men!”   
“Black!”   
“The dark of ages past!”   
“Red!”   
“A world about to dawn!”   
“Black!”   
“A night that ends at last!”  
Marius felt the need to ruin things, as he was so good at doing, and said to my brother: “if you had been there today you might know how it feels. To be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight.” Alexandre loved his Ophelia, but he had never been as gushy as this man. Thank heaven for that. I think Ophelia and I would’ve had to have searched the apartment for his genitalia. “How your world may be changed in just one burst of light. And what was right seems wrong, and what was wrong seems right…”   
“Red!” Grantaire said, standing up and waving a hand at Marius, trying to get a rise out of my brother.   
“I feel my soul on fire!”   
“Black!” Grantaire’s eyes were dancing with amusement at this display.  
“My world if she’s not there!” Marius yelled. I rolled my eyes.  
“Red!” My boys yelled.   
“The color of desire,” Marius seemed pleased they had joined in.   
“Black!”   
“The color of despair!” Marius finished.  
“Marius, you’re no longer a child. I do not doubt you mean it well,” my brother said to Marius and I rolled my eyes.   
“Who cares about your lonely soul?” I joined in, smirking.   
“No one,” Celine giggled.   
The rest of the boys continued to poke fun at Marius and ignore my brother’s attempts to get them back on track. Eponine’s brother, Gavroche, walked in and tried to get everyone’s attention. Courfeyrac walked over to the boy and yelled, “everyone, listen!”   
“General Lamarque is dead,” he said to them and Alexandre turned to everyone.   
“His death is the hour of fate! His death is the sign we await! On his funeral day we will honor his name with a light of rebellion ablaze in their eyes,” my brother said passionately, his hands on the table. “They will come one and all…”   
“They will come when we call!” they all yelled proudly. I just lowered my head and thought, what if they don’t?   
Eponine walked up the stairs and stood there, looking around. She saw me, smiled slightly, and then saw Marius. Her face lit up like she was the happiest person alive. Also, she was not wearing the clothes I had lent her. She was back in her crushing corset, ratty chamise and skirt.   
Marius stood up and ran to Eponine and said something like “have you found her” and Eponine deflated a little, then she nodded. Pontmercy looked at my brother and then left with her.   
“Lottie,” Alexandre asked me, bringing my attention to him. “Follow Pontmercy. Bring him back if you can.”   
It gave me a reason to follow Eponine, so I nodded and followed them. I stayed far behind them, sometimes hopping on the roofs of buildings to entertain myself. I eventually got down from the roof and followed them normally, undetected. I could’ve went up to them, grabbed the man, and pulled him back to the cafe… or I could follow them, find out what he was making her do for him that made her unhappy. God so help him if he lays a finger on her -   
Marius grabbed her hands and spun her around. She was laughing until he let her go and walked away, toward the house in front of them. I hid behind a building close to them to listen.   
“Every word that he says is a dagger in me,” she said, thinking no one could hear. There was a pretty blonde girl in the garden Marius was trying to get the attention of. This woman was his Ursula?   
“My name is Marius Pontmercy,” he said, smiling in a way that was creepy to me. Perhaps not to her.  
“And mine’s Cosette,” she smiled, looking up at him through her eyelashes. Or perhaps he had gotten her name wrong. It would be like him.   
“He was never mine to lose,” Eponine said brokenly. “Why regret what could not be? These are words he’ll never say. Not to me -”  
“From today,” Cosette and Marius said to each other.  
“Not for me. His heart full of love… he will never feel this way…” Eponine’s voice got more sorrowful with each time she tried to form a statement. She didn’t want me, I knew. She wanted Marius. It never would’ve been me. I was stupid to think so.   
Is this how Jehan felt, when I denied him? I could only assume so. I stayed for a few more hours to make sure she was fine, then I left.  
Walking home, alone, was all I was up to doing. I did not wish to return to the cafe Musain empty-handed and I was so emotionally tired. I just wanted to rest. So I walked home, mourning my almost lover, and wondering why I hadn’t given Jean Prouvaire the time of day.


	6. Four Years Later

I woke up the next day to my husband trailing a hand down my side. His beautiful face looked peaceful and I smiled at him. His touch always sent shivers through me and now was no different.   
“How did you sleep, Chu-Chu?” he asked, his voice soft. I smiled wider at the nickname.  
“Wonderfully, as I always do next to you. What are we doing today?” I asked him.   
“Well, after we get breakfast, we could always walk around Paris with Éloise, writing poetry,” he smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. I laughed a little.   
“Writing poetry is what you’re good at, mon soleil, not I,” I nuzzled his neck affectionately and he rubbed my back, caressing me.   
“It doesn’t matter what we do on my day off. As long as I’m with my girls,” he said and kissed my forehead. “Nothing could make me happier.”   
“I feel the same, but you have such an eloquent way of phrasing it,” I said softly and Jehan brushed some of my short, tawny hair out of my face. Any excuse he got to touch me, he did.   
“And you never have,” he laughed and kissed me. He was always sweet and shy but his kisses were raw power. He kissed me like he couldn’t have enough and, really, neither could I.   
We only pulled away when we were both breathless and our young daughter ran into the room. She jumped on the bed and crawled between us. Jehan and I didn’t mind, really, so we rolled her up in the sheets and played with her. Once she was breathless from laughing, we relented and let her free.   
About an hour later, we were all washed and dressed, ready to leave the house. The bakery we went to was not full and they had known us for a while. We got good bread and split it amongst us three. As we were leaving, the wife of the baker stopped us.   
“Oh, madam, you forgot this,” she said and handed me two croissants with chocolate on top.   
“I didn’t pay for this,” I said to her and she smiled.   
“I know. But I believe that if you do something kind for someone, something good will be done for you. Take them, free of charge,” she said and placed them in my hands. My daughter beamed up at me and I realized she had never tasted chocolate. I ripped the bread in half and handed the smaller half to her. The look of utter joy she had as she bit into it made my heart ache. What would she be denied just because Jehan and I denied my family’s money?   
We spent all day roaming Paris and telling her stories about our adventures here. I realized, she would never be properly educated, she would never have the advantages I had and gave up. But at least I had the opportunity to give them up. She would probably never have them.   
Later that night, after we had put our daughter to bed, Jehan and I sat in our room.   
“I think… I think we should reconsider my family’s offer. Of my dowry,” I said to him and he looked at me for a few moments.   
“Do you think it’s the proper thing to do? I mean, you haven’t actually seen your parents since you were eleven. They only sent the letter of the offer to keep your money,” he said softly and smoothed my hair.   
“I’m not doing it for us. I’m doing it for our daughter. She deserves a better life than -” I said and Jean set his jaw.   
“This is so bad? Is this not good enough for you? I’m sorry my family disowned me after I married you. I’m sorry this isn’t the perfect life you wanted, Charlotte. But it’s the one we have,” he said, looking pained. I hugged him tightly, my face pressed to his neck.   
“Please stop. I beg of you, speak no more. I love you so much, Jean. I would still marry you even if I knew this was our fate. I would always pick this life over any other. I would always pick a life with you. But our daughter needs a better chance,” I whispered into his shoulder and my husband’s arms held me to him. His head bent down so his forehead was on my shoulder.   
“Let me think about it,” he whispered.


	7. Children of the Barricade

The next morning, Alexandre woke me up at the same time he did. He was already washed and dressed, though. So he had to wait for me. Once I was ready, we walked out. I was still reeling over Eponine and what I had witnessed last night. After Marius got scared off by Cosette’s father, Eponine’s father and his group of thugs had appeared. They had been there to rob the house on Rue Plumet. It was none of my business to intervene, so I didn’t.   
“There’s nothing here for you. They live ordinary lives,” she had tried to coax them at first until she just stood in front of the gate and crossed her arms defiantly.   
“I refuse to move from here. If any of you touches the gate, I’ll scream,” she had threatened. She was, I knew without a doubt, fearless.   
“She wouldn’t scream. And even if she did, no one would come,” the one Monsieur Thenardier had called Montparnasse said to no one in particular.   
“My voice is the voice of the repressed people. Someone will come,” she said and smirked. She showed no fear.   
“We could always beat you,” another one of the men said.   
“You could. You could beat me and kill me and throw my body somewhere and no one will find me. But not without making noise. If you lay a finger on this gate, I will scream and someone will come. I am not the daughter of a dog, I’m the daughter of a wolf. I’m a fighter by nature and I will not be defeated so easily.”   
“You know, this morning I saw two birds fighting and this woman yelled at me so… let’s just go. Those are bad signs,” Montparnasse said and rubbed the back of his neck as if it had pained him. Soon, they all left and Eponine had walked away alone.   
Once I was dressed in my usual attire, I followed Enjolras out. My brother had switched out the strip of brown cloth I used as a belt with a red one to match his coat. Even when he tied it around my waist twice, the ends were still at my knees. Lamarque’s funeral was today, the day we would build the barricade. Enjolras was exited, I was nervous. I hoped none of us would die but I knew, deep down, we would. We weren’t making daisy crowns and talking about our feelings, we were going to war. I think that was something my brother had overlooked.   
The thought of daisies made me think of Jehan and that look of utter sadness. The one I had caused. The one I didn’t have to cause if I would’ve just gotten more in touch with my feelings, before it was too late. I had hurt him and I didn’t think he would take me now.  
The L’ABC and I headed to the funeral whereas Alerie, Ophelia, and Celine were waiting in the Musain for us.   
At the funeral, I held Gavroche’s hand and stood next to Jehan. He looked tense and refused to look at me. He went out of his way not to touch me, even though he stood next to me. I looked up at him, sadness in my eyes. I had made a mistake, I knew. It was Jehan, it always would be. I was just too stupid to realize it until now. I wanted to clasp his hand in mine but I feared he would pull it away from me.   
I tugged at his jacket and he glanced at me momentarily. I mouthed “I’m sorry,” just before he looked away. Some of the tension in his muscles eased and I slowly slid my hand into his. He didn’t respond for a few seconds and just as I was pulling my hand out, Jean’s hand tightened on mine. I fought to contain my smile.   
“Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men,” my brother began to sing and slowly the rest of the boys and I joined in. Then the people sang with us.   
“It is the music of the people who will not be slaves again! When the beating of your heart echos the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!” We started walking with the cart and my brother, Marius, Jean, and Joly climbed on different parts of the funeral cart. I was pulled to the top with my brother, leaving Gavroche with Courfeyrac.   
“Will you join in our crusade? Who will be strong and stand with me? Beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see?” they sang with us and I smiled, waving my flag.   
“Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!” My brother sang above them all, waving his red flag.   
Once our freedom song was over, we stood there. We knew we were going to be attacked. Soon enough, the National Guard rode over on their horses and drew their swords. I glanced at my brother and he nodded.   
My boys drew their guns and climbed down from the cart. Jehan grabbed my wrist and looked at me seriously.   
“Get to the barricade,” he said so only I could hear. I shook my head and started trying to rush people out. People were fighting with swords, I didn’t know how bad it would get when they remembered they had -  
A loud bang shot through the air and I looked around. It was from one of the newest revolutionaries, one I had not known personally. My brother got off the cart and walked over to him. He threw him to his knees and muttered something I couldn’t hear. The man on his knees begged for his life, I assume, and Alexandre just waited. Once his time was up, he shot him in the head and continued walking. He walked over to a woman that l assumed had died by the revolutionary’s shot and closed her eyelids.   
“To the barricade!” Alexandre yelled above everyone else and started running for the barricade. I looked around for Gavroche and saw Courfeyrac had him. I started running and Jean Prouvaire grabbed my hand and ran with me toward the Musain, running ahead of me.  
Prouvaire pulled me with him, trying to get me to safety. I was not in a position to allow my pride through and tell him I didn’t need his help. We were being chased by the Guard and he had to practically drag me, so I was in no position to complain.   
Once we got to the cafe Musain, tables and chairs among other things were being tossed from the windows. I heard Courf yell, “we need as much furniture as you can throw down!”   
I went to the back of the cafe and helped my brother set bottles up. If we ran out of ammo, we could always use the thick bottles as clubs. My brother, the marble lover of liberty, looked at me not like I was his sister but as if I were a soldier.   
“Charlotte, go help build the barricade,” he ordered and I nodded, running to help. I barely missed getting hit with a falling table, but Courfeyrac grabbed me and yanked me away. I let out a yelp out of fear and nodded my thanks to him. Jehan ran over and smoothed his hands down my hair, looking into my eyes.   
“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes searching my face and torso for any damage.   
“I’m fine, really. It just startled me. Courf saved me,” I said to him and helped build the barricade. He nodded and stayed by me, helping me. Gavroche helped as well, and so did a man I had never seen before. Or I had…  
I grabbed the man’s wrist, so boney and delicate in my hand, and pulled him into an alley. I pulled the hat off, the one stolen from me, and stared into the tanned face. It was Eponine.   
“Why are you here?” I asked her harshly. Why did she have to be here? She could be killed!   
“I’m here to fight,” she said nervously.   
“You don’t care about the cause. And if you did, you could come in regular attire. Why are you really here, ‘Ponine?” I asked her and she looked at the ground. Jehan ran over once he realized I was missing and stood next to me. When he saw who it was I was talking to, he looked down at me with the same hurt expression and sighed.   
“Apparently not sorry enough, Chu-Chu,” he sighed softly, almost to himself, then ran off to help with something. I wanted to run after him but I had to deal with this problem.   
“I kept Marius’s letter away from him. From that girl - Cosette. I want to die with him,” she said and looked at me. It was the same expression on Jehan’s and Grantaire’s face, one I had done myself when I had heard her the night before. I knew this expression very well.   
I couldn’t take seeing it on her face, though, so I grabbed her delicate hand and pulled her to me so our torsos were pressed together. I smoothed her hair with my free hand and kissed her. There was something about it that didn’t feel quite right. It wasn’t that she was a girl as well because I had kissed my fair share of girls. Perhaps it was just Eponine. Either way, I kissed her, hoping to relive her of her sorrow.  
Once ‘Ponine thought I had enough, she slowly disengaged herself from me and stared at me with a look of pity.   
“Oh, Owl… I’m so sorry… but I do not feel the same way… I am dreadfully sorry,” she said softly and smoothed my hair. I looked at the ground, not feeling as bad as I probably should have. I nodded and piled her hair on top of her head then placed my hat over it once more.   
“Don’t let him see you, dear Eponine,” I whispered and she nodded then ran off to help with the guns. I walked off, going to try to find Jehan. Perhaps I could explain to him - explain what? The woman I liked was in love with another man and I had pulled her aside to ask her what the hell she was doing because I was worried? I highly doubted that would go well.   
I walked inside the Musain and saw Celine with Courfeyrac. He was holding her to his chest and he was stroking her hair. They had gotten together a few weeks prior when Celine had realized Grantaire could never love her because he loved my brother. Courfeyrac took that as a good opening to tell her how he felt about her and they had been together ever since.   
Celine just looked at me and then turned her head back into Courfeyrac’s chest. I felt like I was intruding so I went elsewhere to search for Jehan.   
   “Char - Owl! I want you to go with someone to find out where the fuck Pontmercy is. He was at the funeral but I haven’t seen him since. And while you’re at it, could you spy on the National Guard,” my brother called out to me and I glared at him.   
   “I can’t do both in time, Enjolras! It’ll take time to find the bastard but what if the Guard attacks while I’m gone? I’ll take someone with me to find Pontmercy but you have to send someone else to spy on the Guard, because I can’t do it,” I snapped. I had Jehan to worry about, protect Eponine, find that meathead Marius Pontmercy, and not get annoyed by the deadweight of another person. I knew the only reason my brother wanted me to take someone else was so I could better drag Marius back.   
   “Okay, okay, Owl. Sorry. I just thought you could handle a little challenge. I guess not,” he said and shrugged, giving me that look. The look that stated he was no longer my brother, but the leader of the revolution. That he was going to treat me as he was treating everyone else. Problem was, I wasn’t used to it. I was one of the three people he treated nicely, kindly. It was me, then Ophelia, then Celine. That’s it. That’s the extent of his kindness, but I was always first. Now I was none.   
   I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin defiantly, leveling him with a cold look of my own. “Fuck you. I love you, frère, but fuck you. You don’t get to manipulate me, you don’t have a right. No one has a right. I do what I please. I do what you ask if I wish to. Never think I’m obligated to do so because we’re blood. I get that you’re the leader, but don’t ever try to manipulate me. Fuck you.”   
   My brother paled just slightly so the only color was the pink of his lips. I had never spoken this way to him. He deserved it though. Alexandre had never tried to manipulate me before and I had to teach him that he couldn’t do that. Alexandre just stared at me and I didn’t back down. Like hell I was going to back down to my brother. Alexandre knew me better than that.   
   “Ok-okay, Lottie. I-I’m sorry. Truly,” he said softly and the tenderness I had known all my life came back into his eyes. It just wasn’t in me to relent. I turned to the boys finishing the barricade and walked over to it. I climbed about halfway and crouched down, looking around.   
   “Okay. There’s two jobs in need of two people. The first job is we need a person to spy on the National Guard and come back to tell us what they’ve learned. The second job is to help me. We seem to be missing someone - I am not at liberty to say who. Who will come with me?” I asked and looked around. Jean Prouvaire just looked up at me coldly and I wanted to leave my position and run to him and hug him. I had to remain strong, just for the moment.   
   Gavroche stepped forward and smiled at me.   
   “I’ll help ya, mademoiselle,” he smiled proudly and I returned it. A man I’ve never seen before stepped forward. He looked kind of old, but sturdy. Like he had been a prisoner or an officer.   
   “I’ll spy on the Guard. I used to work for them, so I know their ways,” he said and looked at me. Funny thing about liars… they always felt the need to have a backstory to their lies. I felt like I should out him later, just so I could prove that he was a liar.   
   I nodded at him and he left to “spy”. I left with Gavroche and held his hand.   
   “Gav, I need you to do me a favor. I want you to follow him and see if he’s really spying. Only stay for a few minutes so you’re not caught. Then I want you to run back to the barricade and tell no one, okay? Wait for me or if I’m already there, wait for me to signal you. But only if he’s lying, okay? Either way, run back to the barricade and wait for me,” I said to him and he looked up at me.   
   “At least it’s more exiting than finding someone. Why don’t you do it?” he asked me.   
   “I’m fairly good at sneaking around, yes, but I don’t feel the need to follow him. Plus, what I’m doing will only take a little bit and I think you deserve to do something exiting,” I smiled and he nodded. I messed up his blonde hair and he looked up at me.  
   “Thanks, Owl,” he said and ran off. I had a feeling Marius would be home. He seemed to really like that Cosette girl and he was probably heartbroken over the fact that he hadn’t received a letter from her - the one Eponine had. He would probably be home, wallowing in his self-pity. Like I had.   
   Once I got to his run-down apartment I knocked on the door but there was no answer. Why would anyone open the door? Surely not Marius! I bet he didn’t even notice his sister was missing. It was so like him to be oblivious to everything but himself.   
   I pushed the door open and stepped inside. I walked over to his curled-up form on the mattress and looked down at him, feeling no empathy. He had hurt Eponine, even without realizing it. He was only interested in himself and didn’t even really care about the revolution. I disliked him for all those things. So much so, that I kicked his side to get his attention.   
   “Ready yourself. There is a war afoot, right outside your door. You were there for the beginning, at least see the end,” I said to him. He slowly sat up and scratched at his brown hair. His blue eyes bore into mine with such pain, I almost pitied him but not quite.   
   “What is the point? Cosette is gone. I told her I would die if she left, and now she’s gone,” he said hopelessly. He had actually told a woman he would die if she left? Oh dear, how frightening. I would’ve left as well, but I didn’t say this.   
   “Your friends are manning the barricade. Stand up and fight alongside them,” I said to him and he stared at me for a while before standing up limply.   
   “Perhaps I could die on the barricade. Do you think she’ll know I’ve died? Do you think she’ll feel it? As if something essential has been ripped from her? I hope she knows,” he said softly and slowly pulled on his jacket and tied his cravat sloppily.   
   I thought he looked well enough and I walked out with him. I didn’t comment on his idiocy because I had done my job. I had brought him back to the barricade, even if he was suicidal.   
Once back at the barricade, I searched for Gavroche. The job I had given him shouldn’t have taken longer than the time I was away. When I found him, I sent him a questioning look and he nodded. I had been right. As always.   
Marius went to stand atop the barricade and I stood next to Gavroche. I placed an arm around his shoulders and squeezed softly. We would wait.   
When the man came back, Alexandre let him back in. I wanted to tell him not to, but I was a patient girl. No use making a spectacle of myself.   
“I have overheard their plans. There will be no attack tonight. They plan to starve you out before they start a proper fight,” the inspector said and I took my hand off Gavroche, giving him a look. He nodded.   
“Liar!” He said and climbed atop the barricade. He squatted and smirked. “Good eve’nin’, dear inspector! Lovely eve’nin’ my dear! I know this man, my friends, his name’s Inspector Javert. So don’t believe a word he says cause none of it’s true. This only goes to show what little people can do,” he said loudly. Without hesitation, Jean, Alexandre, Joly, ‘Ferre, ‘Taire, and Courf surrounded Javert, guns pointed at him.   
“Bravo, little Gavroche, you’re the top of the class!” Courf said, not taking his eyes off the inspector.   
“Now what are we gonna do with this snake in the grass?” Jehan said angrily. His eyes flickered to me then back to Javert.   
“Take this man and throw him in the tavern in there!” I yelled above the commotion.   
“The people will decide your fate, Inspector Javert!” Alexandre said and shot me a look. I was no longer needed, apparently. I walked past my brother, shoving past him. I walked over to Ophelia and sat down just outside the tavern. I put my face in my hands.   
“He’s just stressed, Charlotte. He has a lot to handle,” she said and put an arm around me. Celine sat down next to me and I hugged her close with one arm.   
“He’s not acting like my brother. He’s being a jerk. I try to help, do what I can, but he doesn’t appreciate it. He’s never treated me like this. When I was upset when I was younger, he’d ask Jehan or Grantaire to play music and he’d dance with me. He was kind. He’s a terror now, like the kind and gentle brother I knew no longer exists,” I sighed and Celine pet my hair.   
“He still loves you. You’re his sister. I’m sure once this is over, he’ll be who he was again. I mean, Marius has been horrible since he saw that blonde girl two weeks ago. Her name is Cosette, if I remember. She’s lovely to look at, but I’ve never met her. He keeps her a secret from me. I hope once this is all over, we can go about our lives normally,” she said softly and I hugged her tightly for a moment.   
“Once the wedding is over, you get my flat, remember? You get to be on your own and you can visit us when you like,” Ophelia smiled. Alerie, Combeferre’s girlfriend and Courfeyrac’s sister, sat down in front of me.   
“What you did, you probably saved us all. If you hadn’t asked Gavroche to follow him, we would’ve believed. Thank you,” she smiled and we had a group hug. Then we heard footsteps and separated.   
I looked around, looking for what I didn’t know. Perhaps Eponine or Jean Prouvaire. I had to find her though, I had to protect her.   
“Ready!” My brother called out and the boys I had grown up with, and Marius, ran to man the barricade.   
The National Guard marched up then stood a few feet from our barricade.   
“Who’s there?” The man at the front called out.  
“French revolution!” Alexandre Enjolras yelled and I winced a little.   
“Fire!” the head of the National Guard ordered. This was the beginning. This was the beginning of our end.


	8. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Fall" seemed to sum up this chapter nicely. It references the fall of rain Eponine was talking about, Charlotte falling for Jehan, Gavroche's fall into Death's clutches, the falling out of Charlotte and (Alexandre) Enjolras, the falling out of Ophelia and Enjolras, as well as the fall of Les Amis de l'ABC. So many things fell in this chapter so "the fall" seemed like a good thing to name it.

I stood up and ran towards the barricade but Ophelia grabbed me by my waist and pulled me back, into the Musain. Alerie took Celine and ran with us, into the cafe. Ophelia barred the door with a chair and looked back at me harshly.  
“You will not leave this room. If you do, there is a high chance you could die. And Alexandre… he would go mad if you died. So you stay in here,” she said, a wild look in her eyes. I set my jaw.  
“No. You know just as well as I that you want to be out there. You wish to fight as well. So do you Alerie. We are fighters, all three of us. We are meant to fight alongside them. We will not be pushed to the side simply because we are women. We will fight!” I yelled and slammed my fist on the table. The sound made Celine jump.  
“If you die…” Ophelia said to me warningly and pressed a hand to her face.  
“Alexandre would have the same reaction if you died, Phelia. So don’t go putting this on my death,” I said to her stubbornly. “Celine, hide behind the counter and don’t come out until Courfeyrac comes to get you.” Celine Pontmercy nodded and ran behind the bar counter.  
“We will be fine. But you know it’s not in us to stay on the sidelines during a fight,” I said to them. “Ophelia, you could help the injured with your brother.”  
“Joly would only panic that I was helping. It would distract him,” Phelia said and I bit the inside of my cheek in a frustrated manner.  
“Combeferre… he’s probably not even fighting. Probably just loading guns or something,” Alerie said and then a change went about her face. She stood up straighter, her chin up. A defiant look swept across her face. “We are not to be sidelined by the men who love us. We are just as good as them and we will prove it tonight, or shall we die trying!”  
“Let’s go,” I said and moved the chair out of the way. I ran around to the side of the Musain to Combeferre and stole a gun then ran to the barricade. A gun was being pointed at Marius and someone moved the gun away and let it fire into their chest. I know only one who would do that.  
“Eponine!” I screamed and ran over. She collapsed, her hand over the wound. Marius took care of the soldier and I roughly grabbed his arm.  
“Eponine is hurt,” I said to him and he looked confused. I pointed to the bleeding girl at his feet and he knelt down beside her. She smiled happily and I felt my heart squeeze. She handed a letter over wordlessly.  
“Good God, what are you doing? ‘Ponine, have you no fear? Have you seen my beloved? Why have you come back here?” Marius asked angrily. I nearly punched him.  
“Took the letter like you said. I met her father at the door. I don’t think I can stand anymore,” she said, fear leaking into her voice. I reached out for her hand. He finally saw where she was injured and he paled.  
“Eponine, what’s wrong? You need some help - oh, God, it’s everywhere!” he said, shocked.  
“Don’t you fret, M’sieur Marius. I don’t feel any pain. A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now,” she said and gave a little cough. Tears started to run down my face without my permission. Everyone at the barricade had gone silent. It wasn’t raining. “You’re here, that’s all I need to know. And you will keep me safe. And you will keep me close. And rain will make the flowers grow…”  
“But you will live, ‘Ponine, dear God above! If I could close your wounds with words of love,” he said and smoothed her hair. I wanted to punch him. He had no words of love for her. He didn’t really care about her. He never did. She did everything he ever asked of her and he showed no kindness or gratitude.  
“Just hold me now and let it be. Shelter me, comfort me,” she whispered and smiled. I rubbed her arm silently, but I don’t think she felt it.  
“You would live a hundred years if I could show you how, I won’t desert you now…” he said softly, tears coming to his eyes. I rubbed her arm but I wasn’t sure she could feel it.  
“The rain can’t hurt me now…” she said and her smile faltered for a moment.  
“The rain can’t hurt you now…” I whispered and kissed her forehead. I realized she thought it was raining because she was drenched in so much of her own blood, she had to find a reason why she was so wet. Oh dear… no.  
“The rain will wash away what’s past. You will keep me safe,” she said softly to Marius and then looked at me. “And you will keep me close.” Then back to Marius, “I’ll sleep in your embrace at last!  
“The rain that brings you here is heaven-blessed. The skies begin to clear and I’m at rest,” she touched Marius’s face and moved closer, just a little bit.  
“Don’t you fret, M’sieur Marius. I don’t feel any pain. A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now,” she said, trying to move closer. My body went cold as more blood poured out of her and onto the steps. I wondered where the small, animal-like noises were coming from until I realized it was me. I covered my mouth, my vision blurring from tears. I knew she was going to die.  
“Hush-a-bye, dear Eponine. You won’t feel any pain. A little fall of rain can hardly hurt you now,” said Marius and I to her. She was just two inches from his face.  
“And rain…” she whispered, very close to his lips. I felt no jealousy now, just sadness. Sadness that pulsed through my whole body.  
“And rain…” Marius and I echoed.  
“Will make the flowers…” she said, her voice softer than a whisper. Her lips almost touched his before she went limp and her hand fell from his face and her head fell back. A sob escaped my lips and I pressed my lips together. Marius kissed her forehead as I had done. I wiped at my face angrily and kissed her cheek.  
“Grow,” I whispered to her face. I hugged her, pulling her away from Marius. Combeferre took her away slowly and kissed the top of my head.  
“Be at peace, Owl. She already is,” he whispered into my hair before taking her away from me. He took her behind the cafe Musain.  
“She was the first to fall, upon this barricade,” my brother said, standing on the barricade.  
“Her name was Eponine! Her life was cold and dark, yet she was unafraid!” I said, my voice trembling.  
“We fight in her name,” I heard ‘Ferre say from behind me.  
I felt a hand on my shoulder and saw Jean Prouvaire, with wildflowers woven into his strawberry hair. He squeezed my shoulder and said, “she will not die in vain.”  
Marius went to do something - I didn’t care or know what - and left me sitting alone. No, not alone. Jehan was still touching my shoulder, but he made no move to hug me or touch me more than he already was.  
“I thank you - for your presence… Jehan,” I said softly and placed my hand over his. He slowly knelt down to my level and wiped at my damp cheeks gently. His eyes were solemn and grave as he showed me kindness. I took his hand in both of mine and let out a breath before laying my cheek against his palm. It was warm and soft against my cheek. I closed my eyes and as more tears for Eponine, the fearless beggar girl, leaked down my face Jehan wiped them away. He said nothing, just let me keep his hand against my face.  
“I’m sorry… you’ve never seen me cry before,” I whispered and opened my eyes, laughing bitterly. Jehan didn’t even try to laugh.  
“I have, once. When you were young. You ran into the Musain, the second meeting of the l’ABC. Ran straight into Enjolras’ arms and sobbed into his chest. None of us knew your relation to him, but we guessed you were his sister. After calming down, you told us that these… these vile boys at your school pushed you down and told you, you were no better than a prostitute. I remember that I read you poems as Bahorel started to teach you how to fight. I was pretty young at the time, fourteen, so I went back to the school and waited for you to leave. I saw three boys taunt you as you walked away, toward the Musain. When I knew you were gone, I ran up to the boys and told them if they even looked at you in an unfriendly way, I would come for them. I punched one of them in the face. You were a sweet girl at the time, friendly, open. It was then that you closed off and started to speak less. But I know that doesn’t mean you’re blind to what goes on. I think you know better than anyone else,” he said softly, his voice never changing. “You were a pretty young girl, but you grew to be beautiful. So beautiful. Intelligent and witty and independent. I only wish I could have you for my own.”  
With that, he stood up and left me to my thoughts. I had already decided that morning that Jehan was the love of my life. All I had to do was get up the nerve to tell him. Swallow my pride and just tell him.  
By the time I mustered up my courage to tell Jehan, he was no longer in sight and I was still covered in Eponine’s blood. That thought brought on a new wave of tears and I scrubbed at my face. Crying won’t bring the poor girl back. And anyway, this was the most merciful death she could’ve gotten. She could’ve been turned into a prostitute and died from an illness related to it, or died because her father and his gang beat her to death, or died from cold during the winter, or… okay, enough. She died trying to save the man she loved, even though he never cared about her. That was her fate, cruel as it was, and it could not be reversed.  
I stood up and let out a breath to calm myself. I walked back to the Musain slowly, no longer feeling the need to fight. I honestly just wanted to be alone with either Jehan or Alexandre. But I had no clue where Jehan was and Alexandre… no, he wasn’t my brother for now. He was cold and he was going to stay cold until this was over.  
I walked up to Courfeyrac and told him about how Celine was waiting for his assurance that everything was fine from behind the counter and we ran to get her but stopped when we heard something.  
I heard shouting inside the Musain and sat just under a window, near it. It sounded like Alexandre and Ophelia. But they never fought…  
“Listen to me! You need to get out of here. You, Alerie, Celine, and Lottie need to get out of here,” my brother snapped. I heard something slam against the tabletop and I assumed Ophelia hit the table with her hands.  
“No! I will not! If you think it’s right that you die, then it’s fit that I die too. If I’m prepared to live with you forever, as husband and wife, then I’m prepared to join you in death,” she yelled. Her voice was getting hoarse, like mine was currently. Was she about to cry?  
“What about Charlotte? She needs a friend,” Alexandre sounded like he was getting more and more distressed.  
“She doesn’t need me. What she needs is Jehan. We both know it, we’ve seen them together. You know that if you die, she will go to him for comfort and that scares you! That she could trust another man that isn’t you! You’re selfish, Alexandre! I knew that when I accepted your proposal, but you need to see this for yourself. You could die on this barricade and you don’t care that you will leave destruction in your absence! Think about this, Alexandre. This is -” my brother cut her off. Oh dear, they had never fought like this…  
“No! If I die, I’m willing to be so for Patria. But I do not wish that you die, nor Charlotte. She needs a mother figure -”  
“No. She had everything she needed growing up. She had these men raising her to be what she is today. Charlotte has had a full life. But there’s one thing you’ve stunted her on, Alexandre Enjolras. Something you should’ve taught her early in life that you never did. How to understand her emotions. Probably because you have trouble with that as well. When you took her to live with you, she became your responsibility. You’ve been treating her badly since this morning. She needs you. Alive. She just lost a friend and you’re in here arguing with me about letting you die? No. This isn’t how things work in reality. She needs your comfort and your love. While you’re in here, wanting to die for Patria - no. Do not tell me you’re willing to die for this then expect me to be okay with it. Because I’m not. I love you, Alexandre. But if you don’t stop living in a fantasy, we need to end. Because I cannot be with someone who thinks so little of their life and the happiness of their family,” Ophelia said. Her voice was completely hoarse now. I knew she was crying. Alexandre said nothing, but I knew he was burning with anger. Ophelia walked out and left the barricade.  
It was a few minutes later that Alexandre ran out of the cafe, looking around frantically. He kept saying, “Ophelia? ‘Phelia?” over and over as he looked around the Musain. He didn’t even see me as he walked by, he was so frantic. My brother and I were in the same boat. We both loved people who were sick of putting up with our bullshit. And we both ran after them too late. But I hoped it would not be too late for me.  
Soon enough, Jehan came back. He had a stack of papers in his hands, but not a big stack. He bounded over to me and sat down in front of me. Once he seemed settled, he rifled through the papers and pulled one out then handed it to me. I took it silently and read it. It said:  
One does not know the beauties of the world  
Until one is blind.  
Cannot see your beloved’s face,  
Cannot see her smile.  
But one can hear her laugh,  
Can hear her sing.  
One can live through darkness  
As long as there is one pinpoint of light.  
Her hair is the color of caramels,  
Her eyes as yellow as sunflowers,  
Skin as white as cream.  
She is my light,  
My life.  
I wish I had the pleasure of being hers. 

I let out a breath slowly, reading it to myself. At the bottom of the page had Jean Prouvaire’s signature. Well, this saved me a lot of floundering.  
“Is this really how you feel?” I asked him and he put the papers down and took my hands in his. My heart was beating very fast.  
“It’s how I’ve felt for some time. I figured tonight would be the best night to officially tell you,” he said and gave a small smile.  
“I love you. I - I’ve always felt it, I realize now. But I had trouble realizing what I felt, as I always do. I’m so sorry, Jean. For all the pain I’ve caused you,” I said to him. I would not be like my brother anymore - at least not in this way.  
“I love you,” Jean Prouvaire smiled, and I can honestly say that was the happiest I’ve seen him to this day. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. Neither one of us moved for a moment before Jehan’s lips parted and started to move against mine. I forgot about the world. For just that moment, there was no barricade, there were no problems in my life. No one close to me had died. A light had worked its way through me as I kissed my beloved poet. Nothing could separate us in this moment.  
When we pulled away, I hadn’t realized how close we had gotten. He had both hands on my waist and my hands were on his shoulders. He had dazed look in his eyes and a goofy smile on his lips but once I became aware of my expression, I was sure mine matched his.  
He stood up and pulled me with him. His hand never left my waist as we stood in front of the Musain. My arm was around him as well. Grantaire was sitting on the barricade with Bahorel, Bossuet, Joly, Combeferre, and Alerie.  
“Drink with me… to days gone by. Sing with me to songs we knew,” Grantaire sang, loud enough so everyone could hear.  
“Here’s to pretty girls who went to our heads,” Jehan sang and squeezed my side.  
“Here’s to witty girls who went to our beds,” Joly sang and I smiled a little. I knew Joly was thinking of Musichetta, the girl him and Bossuet shared.  
“Here’s to them, and here’s to you!” we all sang. I saw Alexandre near a corner of the barricade, looking defeated. His eyes were red and watery. He was barely moving his lips to our final song.  
“Drink with me to days gone by. Can it be you fear to die? Will the world remember you when you fall? Could it be your death means nothing at all? Is your life just one more lie?” Grantaire sang and stood up, looking at Alexandre. Alexandre didn’t even notice.  
“Drink with me to days gone by. To the life that used to be. At the shrine of friendship never say die. Let the wine of friendship never run dry… here’s to you and here’s to me…” we all sang, slowly getting louder. Alexandre went back inside the Musain silently. Jehan held me to his chest and I held him tightly.  
Marius added something to our song of friendship, but I ignored it. I ignored it like I ignored mostly everything that came out of that moron’s mouth. He was the dumbest smart person I’ve met. I did not solely hate him because he treated Eponine like shit - even though his usage of her was just another reason - it was also because of how he treated his friends. Well, we weren’t exactly his friends. Courf was, but other than that, none of us really spoke to him. Marius lived with Courfeyrac, so they had to interact. Marius had no loyalty to the l’ABC, only to himself. Maybe his loyalty stretched as far as Cosette, but I doubted that would last long. She was just another whim of his, I knew. She would not last. Not speaking badly about her - she was pretty enough. I had never met the girl, but she seemed to have high standards. Which is why I knew she deserved better than Marius. Marius was an ungrateful man. He was intelligent, I’ll give him that, but he was selfish. He was willing to die and leave his sister - who loved him - alone. What kind of bastard was so willing to die for something that he would leave his sister -  
My brother.  
My brother and Marius were alike in that way. They were both willing to die and leave everyone who loved them behind.  
As if Alexandre had read my thoughts, he stood up straight and walked over to Jean and I, looking beaten. He looked at me, sadness in his eyes.  
“May I speak to my sister for a moment?” he asked Jean and he dropped his arm from me. I walked away with my brother and turned to face him when no one could hear us.  
“What is it you want, Enjolras?” I asked him, calling him by what his friends knew him as.  
“I’m so sorry, Lottie. So terribly sorry. I’ve been a terror since this started. Eponine’s dead - your friend. And I didn’t even go to comfort you. I just fought with Ophelia - I know you heard it,” my brother said and took one of my hands in both of his. He looked fragile, which was odd. It made him look even more pretty.  
“I did. I heard it. She was right. I love you, Alexandre, but until you get everything sorted… I can’t speak to you. You’re being as selfish as Marius and I won’t stand for it,” I said to him and walked past him, to Jehan. I walked right into his embrace, feeling my heart squeeze painfully. This was the second time in a matter of hours I had basically told my brother to go fuck himself.  
The night air grew colder and I held on tighter to Jehan, my eyes closed.  
“Are you tired?” he asked me and I shook my head, even though I was. Jehan slowly let go and sat down, his back pressed against the Musain. I sat next to him, his arms going around me once again. I lay my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I hated fighting with my brother, we had always been so close. We barely fought, but when we did, it was bad for us both. Ophelia had fled the barricade and he had failed to run after her, because his beloved mistress Patria meant more to him - as Ophelia and I knew… kind of. We had hoped he loved us more, but apparently that was not the case. Patria had always been number one in his heart, everything else came second. Even I, his loyal sister. But enough was enough and I would not be placed second by my brother any longer.  
I woke up the next morning, Jehan’s arms still around me. I rubbed my face and looked around. Grantaire was nowhere in sight, probably going to get drunk in the Musain. That didn’t sound like a bad idea, actually. I disengaged myself from Jehan’s arms and walked into the Musain. I walked up the steps to see Grantaire and Bahorel drinking.  
“May I join in?” I asked, even though they always let me anyway. Bahorel gave me a welcoming smile and pulled out the third chair for me.  
“We will first toast to you and Prouvaire. You two are soul-mates,” Bahorel said and rubbed my back affectionately. I laughed a little and shook my head.  
“No, no. I do not believe in that. But I do love Jehan, very much,” I said softly.  
“To Jehan and Owlette! May you both find happiness beyond this barricade,” Grantaire said and raised his bottle. Bahorel did the same, so did I. We tapped our bottles together and tilted the bottom of them up, letting the strong liquid ooze down our throats.  
“I love you both, you know,” I said to them. “You’re my family.”  
“Us too, Owlette. You are like the daughter we never had. There is a piece of all of us in you,” Grantaire said and placed a hand over mine.  
“Then there is something I must confide in you both,” I sighed, looking at them.  
“Do tell it,” Bahorel said and nodded encouragingly.  
“I fancy both men and women,” I said and bit my lip.  
“Owl, do you think we care? Courfeyrac sleeps with anything in a skirt, but that’s not all there is to him. Jehan writes poetry and braids flowers in his hair - and others if he gets his hands on us - but that’s not all there is to him. Combeferre is the most intelligent man I know, he tutored you for god-sake, but there’s more to him than that. Just as Bahorel and I are not solely drunks, fighters, or disbelievers. There’s more to us all, Owl. Just because you like men and women doesn’t mean there’s not a whole lot more to you. You are one of the smartest girls I know, also one of the kindest. You are fair as well. You sing when you think no one is paying attention and you love us all as your family. Owl, you are not just your sexuality, just as I am not. No one is. You know what you are? Whatever you choose to be,” Grantaire said and smiled. I gave a smile back.  
“Thank you, R,” I said to him.  
“Is that all you wanted to say?” Bahorel asked. “Not that it isn’t enough. I’m glad you shared that with us.”  
“My real name is Charlotte. Charlotte Enjolras,” I sighed and looked at the table.  
“Charlotte.” Grantaire said.  
“Yes. When you met me, those years ago, you boys named me yourselves without asking my name. But I liked the nickname so I never corrected you. I can understand why you nicknamed me ‘Owl’, but my name is Charlotte. Enjolras calls me Lottie,” I said and gave a small smile.  
“What’s his first name? We always thought that was his first name but because that seems to be your last name, what is it?” Bahorel asked.  
“Alexandre Enjolras,” I shrugged. I heard shots outside and I stood up immediately. Bahorel followed me out, but Grantaire stayed. Bahorel and I ran out of the Musain as fast as we could and saw Courfeyrac being held back by Combeferre. Ophelia was holding Alerie while Celine was trying to coax Gavroche back onto our side of the barricade.  
“Oh no.” I whispered and ran as fast as I could to the barricade, climbing to the top and laying on my stomach next to Celine.  
“Gavroche! Gavroche! Get back here!” I snapped and he looked back at me and smiled.  
“Little people know when little people fight, we may look like easy pickin’s but we’ve got some bite. So never kick a dog because it’s just a pup -” another gunshot rang and shot just next to Gav. I slammed my hands on a chair.  
“Get back here!” I snapped, louder.  
“We’ll fight like twenty armies and we won’t give up! So you better run for cover -” the next gunshot got him in the stomach “-when that pup grows -” the last bullet hit his chest and he fell back, dead. I screamed, the sight of the small boy dead on the floor seemed to out of place, so grotesque.  
Courfeyrac moved some of the barricade aside and ran to pick up Gavroche as Jehan ran to where I was and dragged me off the top. He pulled me to his chest and I realized I was shaking.  
“Oh my god, oh my god. He was so small, so young. Oh my god,” I whispered over and over, my nails digging into his back, shaking. It had been so fast, faster than Eponine’s death.  
“People at the barricade, listen to this!” the leader of the Guard said to us. “The people of Paris sleep in their beds. You have no chance, why throw your lives away?”  
“We will die facing our foes!” Enjolras said, pumping his fist in the air.  
“Make them pay through the nose!” Combeferre said from his perch on the ground, next to a grieving Courf, trying to help Celine comfort him.  
“Make them pay for every man!” Courfeyrac said through his sobs.  
“Let others rise to take our place until the earth is free!” my brother said loudly. I looked at him, saddened that his Patria meant more to him than his family, than his friends. There was a silence, long and slow. No one moved, no one breathed. Then the Guard yelled, “cannons!”  
“Prouvaire, get my sister out of here!” Enjolras shouted before a cannonball destroyed half our barricade. Wood went flying and I hid my face against Jehan’s chest.  
“I’m not leaving,” I snapped at my brother.  
“Prouvaire!”  
“I can’t make her and you know that,” he snapped right back, his arms around me. He ran into the Musain, dragging me with him. I watched as soldiers walked through the barricade and started shooting. I watched Bahorel get taken down next to me and my hand slipped out of Jehan’s as I tried to catch Bahorel. The soldier that shot him was about to make my fate the same as his before Jehan grabbed the gun and slammed the butt of it into his face. He dropped the gun and picked me up off the floor. I looked around for my brother.  
“Alexandre! Alexandre!” I screamed and pulled my hand out of Jehan’s once again, looking for my brother. Once I found him, he ran to me and wrapped an arm around my waist, his hand clasped around Jehan’s wrist and ran into the Musain.  
“Hide behind the counter, both of you. Please,” he said and kissed my forehead, then ran upstairs. I looked at Jehan, fear in my eyes.  
“This is it, we’re going to die,” I whispered. Jehan pressed his palm to my face and rested his forehead against mine.  
“If we are, so be it,” he said and gave me a kiss as more gunshots went off outside. He and I went behind the counter and waited there silently, holding onto each other tightly. Guards made their way inside and stopped. I closed my eyes tightly, my nails digging into Jehan’s arms. After a few seconds of agonizing silence, the guards shot the counter a few times. A pain bit into my shoulder and I realized I had been shot. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t make a sound. I looked at Jehan and saw that his calf had been shot. The blood pooled out underneath the counter and I bit my lip. Jehan looked like he was in pain, as he should be, and held me close.  
“I love you,” he whispered so softly, I thought I had imagined it. Tears ran down my face, then another shot rang through. It had gone into me this time, again, not Jehan. The bullet grazed my side, but stayed lodged in. I pressed my face into his neck, just wanting this to be over.  
Soon enough, the soldiers went upstairs and I pulled away from Jehan, alarmed.  
“Alexandre,” I whispered. No, not my brother. Please, not my brother…  
Many shots were heard and a sob almost escaped my lips. Jehan covered my mouth and pressed my face to his neck. The footsteps of the soldiers left the Musain but we waited a few minutes to make sure they were really gone.  
“I have to go check on my brother,” I said to Jehan and he nodded. He tried to stand but it didn’t work and he fell to his knees. I tried to catch him but he slipped through my hands.  
“Go without me, okay? I’ll be fine,” Jehan smiled weakly but I nodded. I smoothed his sweaty hair and kissed the top of his head. I held my side as I slowly made my way up the steps, my stomach sinking further with each step.  
“Alexandre?” I asked softly as I walked into the first room. Alexandre stood on the door, where the bullets had pinned him. The man who had loved him lay at his feet, dead as well. A sob escaped my lips and I covered my mouth, tears running down my face.  
“Alexandre… oh no…” I sobbed, my voice thick. I walked over to my brother and took him off the wall, his blood coloring my hands. I wanted to throw up.  
Once he was off the wall, I sat down on the floor, I sat with his head in my lap. My tears dropped on his face, my heart feeling heavy in my chest.  
“You promised me you wouldn’t die, frère. You promised,” I whispered, shaking. “You promised!” I lay my forehead on his, my eyes closed.  
Later, when I had limped out with Jehan, we checked for the survivors. It was only Combeferre, Alerie, Celine, and Ophelia. Marius Pontmercy was nowhere to be seen, not that I cared. Courfeyrac was dead, which hit Celine and Alerie very hard. Joly and Bossuet were dead as well and Ophelia sat next to them both and gave with each a moment of silence, crying but trying not to show it. Ophelia's brother was dead, Alerie's brother was dead, and so was mine. They wept over their bodies for an hour before we had to get out. Each of us were badly wounded and we needed medical attention and quickly. None of us really said anything, just cried silently. I looked at Ophelia and bit my lip.

"What are you doing here?" I asked softly, my voice thick.  
"I heard gunshots. I was scared for you and Alexandre," she whispered and looked at me.  
"No one needs to worry about any of them anymore," I whispered and looked ahead.  
I didn’t speak to anyone for a few months after that, not even Jehan. I lived with him, yes, but I never spoke to him. I just stayed in the guest room and didn’t leave. I had just witnessed the death of my friends and brother. The men I had grown up with - Joly, Bossuet, Bahorel, Courfeyrac, Grantaire - they were dead. They were all dead. My family was dead.  
It was my fault, I had to keep them all safe and I failed. I should’ve died along with them.”  


I came back by myself the next day to help clean the blood up and saw my mother. I hid behind a wall and heard the women talk about the “children of the barricade”. My mother was sobbing, saying she lost both her children in one night. I hadn’t seen her in six years. She still remembered me? I saw Marius and the blond girl he had spoken to nights before, Cosette, walk up. He said his condolences to my mother and the young woman next to her - whom I assumed was Grantaire’s sister - then walked into the Musain. I bit my lip in frustration. Where was he, among the bodies? He should’ve been there, or at least wounded! But no, he had his uninjured arm in a sling and a woman on his other. She wore a white floral dress with tiny flowers in her hair and it made me think of Jehan. What was Marius doing here? Where was his sister? Looking around just a little more and I saw her. She was far behind Marius and his Cosette, trying not to be noticed. Her eyes roamed around until they found mine. She walked over to me and held my hand.  
“I’m so sorry, Owl,” she said softly and squeezed my hand. I nodded and looked at the ground. I slipped my hand out of hers and walked over to the women cleaning up the blood. I knelt down next to my mother and took a damp cloth out of the water bucket I brought and started to help mop up the blood. My short hair fell in my face but I didn’t care. It hid the fact that I was crying. My face still hadn’t recovered from the sobbing and my side had not recovered from the bullet wound. But that didn’t stop me from doing my best to clean. Occasionally, Grantaire’s sister would try to speak to me. Ask for my name, who I was to the boys, of what class I was. I responded simple answers such as: “Owl”, “a friend”, and “same as yours” until she finally gave up. My mother looked at me but I turned my head so she wouldn’t see my eyes. If she saw my yellow eyes, she would know who I was and I didn’t want that. I simply helped clean up the blood until I fell to my knees in front of the Musain, not wanting to go up the steps into the room my brother died in and see the man who abandoned us during our final battle. I just fell to my knees and cried. I heard Marius sing, in a hoarse voice, “I can hear them now! The very words that they had sung… became their last communion. On this lonely barricade, at dawn…”  
“Oh my friend - my friends forgive me. That I live and you are gone. There’s a grief that can’t be spoken, there’s a pain that goes on and on…” I sobbed and slowly crawled into the Musain onto a chair. I saw Cosette’s dress in the stairwell and heard Marius sing, “phantom faces at the windows, phantom shadows on the floor…”  
“Empty chairs at empty tables… where my friends will sing… no… more…” I got out before I started crying again. Arms circled around me and I saw it was my mother and Celine. This only made me cry harder, wishing it were Joly or Bossuet or Courf or Feuilly or Courfeyrac. Someone other than this young girl and the mother I hadn’t seen in years. I realized Celine was crying too. Because I was crying or crying over the loss of her beloved Courfeyrac, I didn’t know. I just knew she was. I pulled her onto my lap and we held each other as we cried. My mother soon left us to our tears. I just held the scrawny girl, much like me, and wished this hadn’t happened.

It had been six months after my family’s death that I sought out Jehan. I woke up and realized I was hungry. I had opened the door and seen a try of food in front of it, as I had every day for the past months. Jehan never once came to see me after the first week. I had thrown something at him, growling, telling him to get out and that he didn’t understand. He had left swiftly but made sure to bring me food every day, and books in case I got bored. But once he left, I just lay on the bed and thought. Thought about all the mistakes I made, how I could’ve saved my brother. How I should’ve been nicer to Jehan because he was just trying to help. I hadn’t spoken to Combeferre, Alerie, Ophelia, or Celine since we left the hospital. Maybe I should.  
So I brought the food that day to the table and placed it down, trying to be as silent as possible. Jehan looked up, such hope in his eyes. He did not get up, though. He stayed sitting where he had been, and continued to eat. I know I looked like hell and I needed a good washing, but I had to eat first. After twenty minutes of silence between us both, I put my utensils down and looked at him calmly.  
“Jean,” I said to him and he looked up again, looking at me.  
“I would like to see Combeferre and Alerie today. Would that be okay?” I asked him softly.  
“Yes, that would be fine, Charlotte,” Jehan said stiffly, as if trying not to upset me. I felt this weight on my chest, not liking that I was the cause of some of his pain. He had lost friends as well, not just I, and not being able to be comforted by the person he loves because she wished to be away from humanity was not helping him in the slightest.  
I went to get washed and changed, then emerged. Jehan was already dressed, standing by the door, my coat in his hands. He looked so stiff, so resigned. I wondered if this is what he had become after the death of our friends, or if he was simply trying not to upset me. Or both.  
I walked up to him and pressed my lips to his, my hands on his shoulders. I felt the tension in him slowly evaporate and he kissed me hard, his hand on my lower back, the other in my hair. Once I pulled away, I looked at him and smiled a little.  
I kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, “I love you too, mon soleil.”


	9. Four Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter of Charlotte's account.

A few weeks later, I woke up to a kiss from my husband. His lips were warm and soft so I moved mine against his, slipping my fingers through his strawberry hair. He moved so he was on top of me and kissed me deeper, one hand sliding up my thigh. He stopped half-way up my thigh and pulled away, smiling at me. He pulled his hand away and smoothed my nightdress, his hand resting on my ribcage. I looked up at him, sleepy and a little dazed.   
“What, mon soleil?” I asked him. I had grown accustomed to calling him that after I recovered from my grief. He was the light that pulled me out of the darkness, so it only fit that my pet name for him meant “my sun”.   
“Get up and get washed. Meet me outside in about an hour,” he smiled and kissed the tip of my nose.   
“You’re just going to leave me on this bed? Alone?” I asked and gave a devilish grin. He lay back on top of me and pinned my arms above my head.   
“Exactly, ma cherie. Now get washed and dressed and meet me outside. I love you,” he smiled and kissed me once more before getting off and walking out the door. I sighed and did as he asked considering he has never done this before. I pinned my chin-length, caramel-colored hair back then put my hat on. I put on the white chamise and brown trousers then the red strip of cloth Alexandre had wrapped around my waist. I put on my boots and went to get Éloise only to see her small bed empty. I wrinkled my brow and went outside. A carriage was outside, a white one, like I used to ride around in when I was small. Sitting on my mother’s lap while Alexandre played with me. My mother would braid ribbons into my long hair and scold Alexandre when I would wiggle around too much for her to do it. My father would give Alexandre a stern look but always have a kind one for me. Father would sneak me and Alexandre sweets, even after Mother told him that we had enough. He’d take us around Paris and would buy us whatever we wanted. It usually ended up being for Alexandre because I usually didn’t like extravagant things. Then Alexandre would place me on his shoulders, even in my skirt, and walk around like that.  
Tears filled my eyes and Celine and ‘Phelia stepped out. Celine Pontmercy walked over to me, as she had four years ago, and wrapped her arms around my waist. Since then, she had filled out and her face had matured so she looked like a woman already. She was so beautiful, her and Cosette were in rivalry for the best dressed woman in Paris or the most beautiful woman in Paris, I don’t remember which. I didn’t think they were aware of the rivalry people were sure they had.   
“‘Phelia and I came to see you go home,” she smiled. Tears ran down my face and I looked at her, confused.   
“Excuse me?” I asked. Jehan stepped up, carrying Éloise.   
“I wrote a letter to your parents, Chu-Chu. They gave you your dowry. Also, we’re allowed to stay in the mansion. They said we were family, so they would love to live with us. Your mother misses you greatly,” he said softly and our daughter smiled.   
“Oh my god,” I whispered and covered my face. Tears ran down my face, happy ones this time. It had always been easier for me to leave my parents and never return. But it was time to return now. It was time to go home. Alexandre only wanted the best for me, and now my family was going to get part of the best as well. Alexandre would be proud.   
As I got in the carriage with Jehan, Éloise, ‘Phelia, and Celine, I was glad I had survived. I was glad to be alive and with people who loved me. I honestly didn’t hate Marius anymore, he was barely a thought in my head. I guess I would have to have thoughts about him to have an opinion of him. The last time I saw him was at his wedding.  
The daughter of two revolutionaries, a woman who never got to be a widow, a girl who had lost her love, a man who finally got his after years of waiting, and a woman who had lost almost everything that mattered to her in this world. What a group we made.   
As we road in the carriage to my parents house, we told stories about the men we counted as friends and loves as if they had never died. Because they hadn’t. To us, they would always live in our hearts until we passed on to the next world and were reunited with them. But that reunion would be many years in the future and I wouldn’t want it any other way.


End file.
